


Heir + Spare

by violetvaria



Series: Knight + Prince AU [4]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Bad Parent James MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Child Abuse, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Good Friend Wilt Bozer (MacGyver TV 2016), Hurt/Comfort, No historical accuracy, Past Child Abuse, Platonic Cuddling, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Suicide, Threats Against Children, child!Bozer, child!Mac, medieval royalty AU, references to past assassinations, sexual overtures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:08:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21972124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: “You will attend the king’s dinner, Prince Angus.” She emphasized the title rather sarcastically.The boy bent his head. “If it is the king’s wish.”She nearly growled but spoke even more sweetly than before. “It shall be a grand affair, special friends on every side, close enough to…speak with.” Something in her tone made the boy’s blood turn to ice in his veins. “And I shall pour your cup with my own hands.” She leaned closer, voice lowering. “One hopes that your drink shall be…free of impurities.”~~~set in just_another_outcast's Forbidden AU
Relationships: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016)
Series: Knight + Prince AU [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1394908
Comments: 79
Kudos: 29





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GeekyNightOwl1997](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GeekyNightOwl1997/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Forbidden](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893) by [just_another_outcast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast). 
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With many thanks to the gifted and generous just_another_outcast for creating and sharing this AU! Reading [**Forbidden**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893) is highly recommended to understand this universe.
> 
> Massive thanks to GeekyNightOwl1997 for this prompt: _I just keep seeing little Mac enjoying running around the castle grounds, when he hears that there is a celebration for his father's Birthday. And Mac tells Jack that he's worried, because he doesn't like big crowds (because he hasn't been to a celebration in years) and he thinks somebody is gonna try and poison him._  
This idea perfectly completed a half-formed idea of my own, so tremendous appreciation for getting me "unstuck"! The poisoning bit won't occur for a couple chapters, but I hope this work brings you some small amount of enjoyment!
> 
> WARNING: extremely mild allusions to past battles, including the deaths of soldiers
> 
> Please expect zero historical or cultural accuracy.

In hindsight, Prince Angus should have expected to be the last to know.

Of course all the nobles at court would hear of it first. Of course it would trickle down through the castle servants and footmen and pages and out into the stables and grounds. Of course rumors would fly from village to town, spread by traveling merchants and roving minstrels.

Of course Wilt and Jack would know before Angus did.

They broke the news to him together at their shared breakfast. The prince could tell as soon as Wilt walked in that something was on the valet’s mind, but Jack kept shooting Wilt looks that Angus could easily interpret as warnings to keep his mouth shut. Angus suspected this was an effort on Jack’s part to ensure the prince finished breakfast before losing his appetite, but the tension of waiting was rapidly accomplishing that anyway.

He pushed away his mostly full bowl of porridge. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jack said, too swiftly. “Finish your meal.”

“I’m finished. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You’re not finished. You didn’t eat enough to keep a mouse from starving.”

“I’m not—”

“And you wouldn’t want Chef Beatrice to think her efforts weren’t appreciated, would you?”

Angus scowled at his bodyguard. “Stop it. Just tell me.”

“How about this. You finish that bowl, at least one piece of bread, and a slice of apple, and I’ll tell you then.”

Trying to be helpful, Wilt cut an apple in quarters and offered one to his friend, taking a noisy bite of another.

“It’s good, Angus. Freshly picked.”

Angus waved him away. “I’ll eat after you tell me whatever it is you’re hiding.”

“You won’t, though,” Jack noted.

“Which means it’s bad. And you can’t keep something like that from me. I—”

“Wilt,” Jack interrupted, not breaking eye contact with the prince, “would you give us a minute?”

Wilt looked from the prince to the knight, both glowering now, and nervously edged toward the door. “Are—are you sure?”

Neither paid any attention.

“We had a deal, kid,” Jack said in a low voice as soon as the door shut behind the valet. “You finish your breakfast and you get to go outside before we head up to the duke.”

Angus crossed his arms. “We also said we were a team. That you’d tell me things I needed to know.”

Jack sighed. “And I will. I promise. But what’s my main job, huh?”

The boy turned away, unwilling to answer.

“Come on, Angus,” Jack coaxed. “Can’t leave me hanging. What’s my most important job?”

“Guarding me,” Angus nearly spat, deliberately throwing the bodyguard’s title in his face.

Jack scowled. “That might be what everyone else thinks, but you’re smarter than that. And you normally have better manners.” He returned the glare Angus sent over his shoulder. “Let’s try one more time. _Why_ am I your bodyguard, kid? What’s my purpose here?”

After a long pause, Angus grudgingly spoke. “To take care of me.”

“There you go.” Jack’s voice was soft now. “And yeah, I have some news that isn’t great. But it will feel a lot better on a full stomach than an empty one, so please, bud, please try to finish your breakfast.”

Angus hesitated, but Jack could tell he was wavering.

“I can always put you in my lap and feed you if you’d rather,” Jack said casually, allowing just a trace of humor into his voice.

The prince aimed another glare at the (probably) mock-threat. “Fine.” He picked up his spoon. “The rest of this and a slice of apple. No bread.”

“All right,” Jack agreed, inwardly rejoicing at the unexpected victory. Without raising his voice, he added, “Wilt.”

The valet bustled in immediately, trying to look as though he hadn’t been pressed up against the door.

Angus ate rapidly, but Jack didn’t have the heart to admonish him to slow down. He watched like a hawk to make sure the boy didn’t choke, however. The prince finished before either of his two companions, but he had the good manners to wait, albeit with obvious impatience, without saying anything. When Wilt took one of the leftover sections of apple, Jack silently offered Angus the last piece, not pushing it when the boy waved it away. Jack ate the fruit himself and sat back from the cleared tray.

“Angus,” Jack began gently. “You know that sometimes we hear rumors.”

“Or gossip,” Wilt added.

“And most of it is idle chatter, just…speculum.”

The prince didn’t smile as he corrected, “Speculation.”

“Right, that.”

“So we don’t tell you all of that stuff,” Wilt blurted. When both his companions gave him a look, he ducked his head. “Jack said not to.”

Jack winced at the accusing scowl sent his way. “I am not apologizing for that, son. There is no reason you need to be bothered by nonsense that isn’t true anyway.”

“Like what?”

The knight and the valet shared a look. “Nothing you need to know.”

“Jack.”

“I already said it wasn’t important,” Jack said a bit more sternly.

“Maybe you should let me decide that.” Angus raised his chin defiantly, and Wilt shifted uneasily. He hated the little spats between the strong-willed prince and his equally stubborn bodyguard, even though they never lasted long.

“Fine,” Jack snapped. “You wanna hear one? There was a day a while ago you missed your riding lesson. I think the duke wanted you for an extra hour or something.”

“So?”

“So there was a story going around…” Jack came to an abrupt halt. There was no way he could tell this child the awful things he’d heard, the things he hadn’t been able to vehemently deny, however much he wanted to. He hadn’t even dared tell Sir Peña, the knight who had come to him with the rumor circulating the stables, and he wasn’t sure if he were relieved or worried that Peña seemed to suspect the truth anyway.

Wilt bit his lip. He’d heard the stories in the servants’ hall too. That had been back when Jack had only been the prince’s bodyguard for a few months, and the rumors were enough to give Wilt a moment of doubt. But he worked closely with Angus and, by extension, Jack, and he soon realized they weren’t true.

“What?” Angus demanded impatiently.

Jack couldn’t meet his eyes. “People were saying you couldn’t ride that day.”

Angus tilted his head to one side, puzzled.

“They said you were too sore.” Jack hated the words as they came out of his mouth.

It took another minute, but then the prince understood. “They thought _you_—?”

Jack nodded tightly.

“We couldn’t tell people they were wrong,” Wilt said softly, apologetically. “’Cause Jack was hired—”

“I know why he was hired,” Angus said shortly. He stewed silently for a few minutes. “You could have told me that before.”

“What good would that have done?” Jack asked gently.

“_We_ knew it wasn’t true.” Wilt patted his friend’s shoulder supportively.

“Well, I knew it too. So there’s no reason to hide—”

“There’s no reason to bother you with every little bit of gossip from the scullery maids or the stable boys,” Jack said firmly. “But we will tell you when we hear something that’s _true_, something you need to know.”

Angus stared daggers at him, and Jack thought they might be revisiting this conversation in the future, but the prince wanted to know the secret his friends had been keeping all morning, so he just jerked his head in a nod.

Jack took a deep breath. “Angus, you know that your—the king has been…um…”

“Batty about,” Wilt supplied helpfully.

Jack shot him a reproving glance. “Has been _keeping company_ with the Lady Anne Goodwin recently.”

“It is no secret,” Angus said stiffly. Even he, the unloved and nearly forgotten prince, had heard of his father’s latest paramour, one who had taken his interest far more than anyone since—since the queen.

“It has been confirmed by the king’s personal secretary that—”

“Just say it, Jack.”

“At the king’s birthday celebration in a fortnight, he will announce…”

“He’s going to marry her,” Wilt blurted.

Knight and valet waited, not breathing, for the prince to react. To their surprise, he merely sat with a faint frown before shaking himself.

“Is that all?” He arched one eyebrow.

“All?” Jack repeated incredulously.

“Angus, did you hear me? She’ll—she’ll be the new queen!” Wilt reached out to console his friend, but Angus backed away just enough to be out of reach.

“It is hardly unexpected,” he said coldly. “My—the queen has been gone more than five years. The king is perfectly within his rights to take whatever bride he chooses.”

Jack and Wilt exchanged a glance, silently debating.

Angus didn’t miss their wordless communication, of course. “What is it?” he demanded. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“It has not been confirmed,” Jack replied slowly. “It is only rumor.”

Angus crossed his arms. “Tell me.”

Eager to avoid another battle of wills, the valet piped up, speaking in a rush. “It is said that the Lady Anne is with child.”

The air seemed to have been sucked out of the room. Angus was dimly aware of a buzzing noise, but he couldn’t locate its source because his vision was suddenly gray and fuzzy.

“Angus!” Jack caught him as he listed to the side, falling out of his chair. “Wilt, go get a damp cloth.”

The prince had the vague sense of being lifted, felt a small figure brush past him hastily. What could have been seconds or hours later, a soft cloth was gently pressing against his face, the cold water shocking him back into full awareness.

“I’m sorry, son,” Jack was whispering, still smoothing the cloth over the boy’s brow. “I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m sorry.”

Angus gave a tiny shake of his head. He didn’t have the energy to be embarrassed that he was currently sitting in his bodyguard’s lap, cuddled against his broad chest, nor did he have the inclination to move away. Although he usually avoided such contact in front of an audience, he knew Wilt wouldn’t judge him for accepting the comfort their friend offered, and from the look on Jack’s face, Angus guessed the knight needed this as much as the prince did.

After a few more minutes, Jack handed the cloth back to Wilt, who took it to the bath chamber.

Jack bent his head to speak into the prince’s ear. “I am so sorry about all of this, my prince.”

Prince. That was exactly it. Angus spoke flatly. “If the Lady Anne has a son…”

“Angus—”

“The king will renounce me.”

Jack couldn’t say anything. They both knew it was true. King James would prefer the new child over the son of his first marriage, would find a way to send Angus off to live in genteel poverty.

“We don’t know what will happen yet,” he managed finally. “Let’s not worry about that right now.”

The boy leaned closer to Jack, still clearly troubled.

“No matter what happens, I will stay by your side, remember?”

Angus shook his head despairingly. “I won’t need guard then. You’ll be assigned—”

“Hey.” Jack tightened his grip on the child he loved. “You think that means anything to me? My loyalty is to _you_, not to the king. Not to the knighthood. You.”

Angus swallowed the lump in his throat, not trusting himself to speak. He just nodded against the collar of Jack’s tunic. It was nice of Jack to say those things, even though he wasn’t sure the knight would be able to make good on his promise. And Wilt would certainly not be able to come with the p—_former_ prince to whatever distant household he was sent to.

He knew his friends would try to assure him that this was unsubstantiated rumor, that there was no guarantee of the Lady Anne’s condition at the moment. It hardly mattered. If she married the king, she would have plenty of time to produce a son. A true heir.

Angus wouldn’t be needed.

He tried to turn away, unwilling to see the sympathy he knew would be on Jack’s face, but the knight held him more tightly, one arm almost completely encircling him and the other hand moving up to stroke the fine blond hair, tucking the boy’s head under his chin. Angus didn’t protest. At least from here, he didn’t have to look either of his friends in the eye.

“Do you know her?” he finally asked softly.

Jack began rocking gently, not seeming to realize he was doing so. “No,” he hummed softly. “I have seen her from a distance, that is all.”

“She’s pretty,” Wilt conceded, blushing when Jack raised his eyebrows in his direction. “So everyone says.”

Angus lifted his head to look at his valet and then twisted to peer up at Jack. “Is she?”

He didn’t know why he was asking. It wasn’t as though the king would choose her as his bride if she were not at least presentable.

But Jack, as he so often did, seemed to understand the prince’s question better than the boy himself did. “She is quite lovely, it’s true,” he admitted. “But she has no regal bearing, no real grace of movement and manner that I have seen. She cannot compare to your—to the late queen.”

Angus sagged a little, clutching Jack’s tunic to keep himself upright, a sigh of what might have been relief escaping his lips. Wilt didn’t remember his friend’s mother, but he had seen the portraits, and he knew, from the few hints he’d gathered from Angus, that she had been a very special woman.

“I spoke with your mother once, you know,” Jack was murmuring, voice soothing.

Angus nodded. Jack had told him the story multiple times, but he never tired of hearing it again.

“Wilt hasn’t heard it.”

Jack smiled, squeezing his young charge affectionately. “Wilt? You want to hear the story?”

“Yes!” Wilt crowded forward eagerly. He loved listening to stories of all kinds, and Jack was a master storyteller. The knight pulled him up onto the bed where he continued to hold Angus in his lap, and Wilt leaned in, relaxing against Jack’s side and resting a comforting hand on the prince’s leg. Angus shot him a small, grateful smile.

“It was spring,” Jack began quietly. “The queen nearly always invited some of us to the palace for Boxing Day.” After some experimentation, Jack had learned to avoid referring to himself as one of the elite royal soldiers. Angus was still sometimes prone to guilt about what Jack had given up to become the prince’s guard. “However, that winter, we were entrenched. It was nearly three months before we had fended off the invaders.”

Wilt frowned slightly and shifted, but Jack gave him a tiny shake of the head before he could speak, silently promising to provide more details later if the valet wanted. Angus had heard them before, and the bright, imaginative child did not need more reminders of how close Jack had come to not returning from the battlefield.

“It was not the first time the queen had addressed us. She was…” Jack sighed as he thought back to those days. “Gracious. Elegant. Radiant. She always thanked us for our service, poured the first cup with her own hands.”

Angus had once asked if the king ever appeared at these parties, and Jack had reluctantly told him that he had. The events were very much the queen’s domain, however, and the king had never spoken a word that Jack could recall, merely standing at his wife’s side before nodding briefly at their guests and leaving. Angus himself, a mere toddler at the time, had never been permitted in such company—Jack had actually forgotten the child existed until he saw him at the queen’s funeral a few years later.

“But this time,” Jack continued, “she was moved by the…most recent skirmish.”

Angus huffed a little, knowing Jack was downplaying its seriousness for his sake, but he didn’t interrupt.

“She spoke with each man individually. She had read letters sent from the front, remembered names and details.” Everyone in the kingdom knew King James was brilliant—he hardly let anyone forget. They didn’t know what Jack knew, that Angus was even brighter. And Jack recognized that was at least partly due to the queen, who hadn’t been famed for her intellect as her husband was, but who was thoroughly his equal.

Yet another way in which the Lady Anne fell short.

“She remembered what my commander had written about me.” Jack carefully avoided mention of the late Lord Bremer. Angus had met his brother, the younger Lord Bremer, and still carried guilt about his sudden demise. “She asked me to describe the final charge.”

Wilt’s eyes were wide and eager, and he twisted to better see Jack’s face.

“I tried to be delicate, of course, for a lady’s ears.” Jack smiled. “She put a stop to that immediately. Said I should describe it as I would for a man. For a fellow soldier. I tried to protest, but…” Jack chuckled. “There was no arguing with the queen. She was always kind and gentle, but she got her own way.”

Angus smiled. He didn’t really remember that, but he loved hearing about his mother.

“So I told her. I told her of the cannon fire. The thick smell of smoke. The flashes of fire. The shouts of desperate men and the cries of the wounded and dying. The reckless bravery of men who didn’t come home. I told her _everything_. And she…” Jack shook his head, still amazed after all these years. “She had more courage than any royal I’d ever seen. Until you, Angus.” He smiled down at the boy in his arms. “She listened to every word. And she was clearly grieved, but she didn’t break. She thanked me for telling her, thanked me again for my service, and…_asked my advice_. She wanted to know how best to honor the sacrifice those men had made.”

“What did you tell her?” Wilt breathed, eyes still round as saucers.

“I told her that her personal thanks was the best that could be offered. No amount of gold or land or gifts would console families who had lost a son or brother.” Widows and children of soldiers were, per royal decree, granted a stipend if they had no other means of support. “And she did exactly that. Within the month, she was traveling, visiting every family, rather than asking them to come to her.”

“The queen did that?”

Angus was pleased that Wilt sounded so impressed.

“She did,” Jack confirmed. “She was…pure light. Just like her son.”

Angus blushed, but Wilt beamed and nodded.

They heard distant bells ringing, and all three jumped.

“Duke Lemière will be waiting,” Angus said anxiously, straightening up but still not leaving his safe hideaway in Jack’s arms.

Jack sighed. “We’ll have to do without your morning Constantinople.”

Wilt looked puzzled, but Angus giggled. “Constitutional.”

Jack grinned down at the boy and ruffled his hair. “Let’s get you up to your tutor to learn more of those big words.” He glanced around a bit guiltily. “Wilt, can you—”

“I’ll clean up,” the valet assured them hastily. “I’ll see you tonight, Angus.”

Jack escorted his charge to the library, taking up his usual post. He was confident he didn’t need to worry about Lemière. The kindly elderly gentleman had probably heard the news of the upcoming engagement, just as everyone in the kingdom had, but even if he managed to remember it, which wasn’t likely, it wouldn’t occur to him to mention it. Angus could spend a few hours in peace without thinking about what the future might hold.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: semi-graphic child abuse (physical, verbal, mental, emotional); implied threats against a child

The next several days were uneventful. Jack tried to give the prince extra attention whenever he could, and Wilt took great pains to share some of the funnier stories he heard in the servants’ hall. Their combined efforts seemed to suffice, as Angus appeared much the same as usual, his troubled state of mind obvious only in the way he stayed a little closer to Jack when they were walking or his eagerness to see Wilt when the valet came to his chambers in the morning.

Wilt quietly whispered to Jack that the Lady Anne was noticeably rounder than she had been, the servants gossiping about a new royal infant. She wasn’t frequently seen about the grounds now, remaining in chambers designated for her and located just down the hall from the king’s quarters. However, her personal maids enjoyed flaunting their newly elevated position among the servants, and their comments circulated throughout the castle.

Jack was against sharing this with Angus, but Wilt talked him into it, pointing out that it was already hard for the prince to trust anyone, and this was evidence of the rumor they’d already mentioned. Jack conceded the point.

Angus received the news gravely and quietly, which didn’t surprise his friends. The prince had been taught to suppress outbursts and expressions of emotion. But the big blue eyes were more haunted, and instead of carving his small blocks of wood into recognizable shapes, Angus just whittled them down into useless flakes. Jack had to restrain himself from taking the knife away when the boy accidently sliced his finger as he was distractedly fiddling with the sharp blade. The cut wasn’t deep, thankfully, and Angus looked so hurt at the idea of Jack taking away the knife the prince had won from him that Jack relented with the warning that if any further accidents happened, he would confiscate the tool.

The worst part, Jack thought, was that Angus could no longer go anywhere around the castle grounds without being pointed at or stared at. Odd silences fell when the prince walked by, immediately swelling in a hum of voices as soon as he moved past. Angus has become something of a nonentity in the past year, which at first had occasioned plenty of gossip and teasing, but that had eventually petered out as the days dragged by with no change in the royal family, and the mockery had ended—at least to the boy’s face—shortly after Jack became his bodyguard.

Now that it was all but certain King James would take a new bride, especially one rumored to be carrying the king’s child, no one could get enough glimpses of the prince as they chattered about what this new development would mean for the royal heir who, according to the king, was nearly half-witted.

Jack ensured no one approached the prince, but he knew Angus was aware of the talk his appearance occasioned from the way he huddled down into himself, scooting a little closer to Jack and refusing to look up. The boy was clearly sleeping badly, the dark circles under his eyes contrasting with the pallor of his countenance. And it was a chore to convince Angus to have more than a bite or two at each meal. Wilt and Jack together generally managed to get their friend to eat at least a little, but more than once Jack had to resort to his half-joking threat, pulling the boy into his lap and holding food to his lips.

It was while he was doing this that Jack discovered the open gaping and giggling at the prince and the malicious whispers were, in fact, _not_ the worst part.

Wilt had thoughtfully made himself scarce during breakfast, claiming he needed to check with the royal seamstresses about the new clothing they were making for the prince. He knew Angus was still sometimes embarrassed to be seen accepting the affection he craved from Jack, and Wilt did his best to support his friend. Jack often praised the young valet and tried to find little ways to thank him, but Wilt knew that wasn’t necessary. He would do almost anything for Angus.

Angus had turned away after a single slice of bread, hiding his face in Jack’s tunic, and the knight knew from experience that at this point, there was nothing he could do to persuade the boy to eat more. He sat quietly instead, absentmindedly rocking back and forth, humming softly.

He almost missed the tiny voice.

“Do you think he’ll tell me?”

Jack blinked. “Who will tell you what?”

“M—my father.”

Jack tried not to let his expression darken. “What about him, bud?”

“Do you think he’ll ever tell me? A-about—about…”

Jack looked away, unable to respond. He should have known. As terrible of a father as James was, he was still the boy’s father. And while Angus had become accustomed to not seeing the king, not having any contact with him, huge news like this, especially when it would change life for the prince, should have been delivered in person.

Jack sincerely doubted that would happen.

“Or at least send a messenger?”

Angus sounded almost wistful now, and Jack attempted to gain control of his emotions before he could act on the treasonous thoughts flooding his mind. If King James were here in front of him now…

“I don’t know, son,” he finally managed. “But…” He hesitated, unable to think of a way to make this situation any better.

The boy gusted a sigh, leaning against Jack and dropping his gaze. “I…should have known he wouldn’t.”

“Angus.” Jack hated hearing the child sound so defeated. “Just because he isn’t smart enough to see your worth doesn’t mean—doesn’t mean you’re worthless.”

Angus just nodded, an appeasement rather than agreement, clearly wanting to drop the conversation. Jack obliged, but during the next few days, he decided to take the boy to the royal stables rather than walking about the castle grounds in the morning. While the prince was still wary of riding, he enjoyed the company of the horses, and he could chat with Sir Peña’s squire, Charlie, as the other boy readied the knight’s equipment. When Sir Peña arrived, he always had a kind word for the prince before he started his duties.

Jack was grateful there were at least some people who valued the prince.

He was thankful for Lemière as well. The tutor behaved exactly as he usually did, apparently oblivious to the undercurrents swirling around the castle, so the time Angus spent studying was something of a break from life.

Until the afternoon the Lady Anne swept majestically down the hall toward the small library, her entourage scurrying behind her.

She gestured regally for one of her lackeys to open the study door, but Jack stepped in front of it before he could.

“My lady,” he said gravely, face impassive.

She appeared to notice him for the first time, artificially dilated eyes sweeping him from head to toe and mouth curving appreciatively. She traced her berry-red lips with her tongue, allowing her gaze to linger before seeming to recall her purpose in coming here. “You may announce us,” she said haughtily, canting her head at an arrogant angle that best showed off her long slim neck.

Jack forced himself not to grind his teeth. “The prince is involved with his studies, my lady. With the duke.”

She waved away the duke with one bejeweled hand. “We will speak with the prince.”

For an instant, Jack wondered if she had adopted the royal _we_ already or if someone else in her party would speak at some point. Thus far, they had been respectfully silent, fading into the background as they orbited their mistress like planets around a sun.

He had hesitated too long. Lady Anne gestured imperiously again, expression sharpening at the prospect of being thwarted.

For months, Angus had been coaching Jack to “pick his battles.” The knight had wanted to defend the young prince against every taunt and jab thrown at him, but Angus insisted it wasn’t worth it, especially when they both knew what would happen if the king learned their relationship was more than professional. So Jack had tried to exercise restraint, had tried to let sly comments and sideways smirks roll off his back as he focused his attention on the brightest child he’d ever met.

That had never been more difficult than at this moment.

Jack had no reason to refuse the king’s betrothed, wouldn’t be able to explain that his gut was screaming that she was no good for his boy. And denying her what she wanted was a sure way to garner the king’s attention, which wouldn’t be good for Jack _or_ Angus.

Besides, Duke Lemière was inside. She wouldn’t try anything in front of a greatly respected personage such as the duke. Right?

Jack clenched his fists behind his back as he stepped aside.

A barely murmured introduction, a glimpse of Angus’s startled face, and then Anne flounced inside, the door closing behind her in Jack’s face.

~~~

“Your Highness.” Lady Anne wasted little time with pleasantries, a false smile pasted on her face. “It is past time we met.”

“My lady,” he returned cautiously, glancing at his tutor, who was completely out of his depth at the disruption to his routine. However, Lemière tended to see the best in people, something Angus usually appreciated, so the duke was smiling distantly at the beautiful young woman and fluttering his hands when she graced him with a single eyelash-batting glance.

“Your father speaks so little of you, I thought it best to get to know you myself.” She spoke with practiced sweetness. But was it his imagination, or did Angus hear a gleeful little insult in her words?

“It is most kind of you,” Angus murmured, careful to keep his tone respectful.

Lady Anne’s eyes narrowed as though she were sizing up an opponent. “When I am queen…” She deliberately paused. “I will be glad to have you as part of our family.”

Angus couldn’t hide his wince, and her cat-like smile grew.

“Is there anything you need? Tunics, breeches? I can speak to the king on your behalf.”

“No, thank you,” Angus ground out. “I want for nothing.” He could feel her gaze resting thoughtfully on his attire, which was simple but still quality fit for a royal, as though calculating the money spent on the child that—as of now—was first in line to the throne.

“The king is a very generous man,” she purred, sounding satisfied when Angus looked away. “He will almost certainly permit you to join us at his birthday festivities.”

Angus bit his lip. He wasn’t sure he could stand to watch his father announce his engagement, much less sit through the whole evening as members of court snickered about him and speculated about the prince’s future.

“It is most generous,” he said slowly, reluctantly, “but I hardly wish to intrude on such a great occasion.”

“You do not wish to celebrate the king’s day?”

“I did not say—”

“I thought perhaps your father had exaggerated your lack of manners,” she reproved. “I shall speak with your guard about appropriate…_adjustments_.”

Angus couldn’t respond, breath catching in his throat.

“You will attend the king’s dinner, Prince Angus.” She emphasized the title rather sarcastically.

The boy bent his head. “If it is the king’s wish.”

She nearly growled but spoke even more sweetly than before. “It shall be a grand affair, special friends on every side, close enough to…speak with.” Something in her tone made the boy’s blood turn to ice in his veins. “And I shall pour your cup with my own hands.” She leaned closer, voice lowering. “One hopes that your drink shall be…free of impurities.”

The prince’s eyes went wide. Had she just threatened him?

Lady Anne straightened up. “I look forward to our next meeting as though it shall be our last. Anon, Your Highness.”

Angus was too shell-shocked to respond until Lemière tapped his knee as he bowed their visitor toward the door.

“Lady Anne,” he managed to say as she sailed out into the hall.

~~~

The Lady Anne emerged from the library, hands clasped on her slightly rounded belly, looking flushed and triumphant. Jack immediately decided he hated that look.

“The prince has shockingly atrocious manners,” she announced over her shoulder, tossing the words in Jack’s direction without giving him her attention. “That must be corrected.”

Jack fumbled with a response, but she didn’t wait for one, eyeing him lasciviously once more out of the corner of her eye before disappearing with her servants and ladies-in-waiting, leaving only the too-strong scent of saffron behind.

Jack’s heart sank as he waited for the end of the day when he could be reunited with Angus. What had that cold-hearted conniver said to the boy?

He didn’t have to wait long. Duke Lemière was so discombobulated by their visitor that he couldn’t recall the rest of their lesson and dismissed his royal charge. Jack was grateful that they would have some extra time before the prince made his required appearance in the dining hall, where he ate alone at the end of a long table. He steered the child to his chambers.

“What did she say, Angus?” he asked urgently as soon as the door had closed behind them.

Angus bit his lip, but he knew Jack would insist. “She—she desires me to—to attend the birthday celebration.”

Jack sagged in relief. “Is that all?”

The prince didn’t want to be the cause of the worry returning to Jack’s eyes. He nodded.

“All right.” Jack spoke gently. “I know it will be uncomfortable, but it will only be a few hours.”

Angus nodded again.

“You are so brave, Angus. You are the strongest boy I know. You can handle a party.” Jack kept his voice deliberately light even though he hated the situation. Angus hadn’t spoken with his father in ages, had barely seen him from a distance, and Jack preferred it that way. He tried to comfort himself with the thought that the king would be too busy giving speeches and receiving toasts to pay any attention to his firstborn son. “You’ll just smile at the right times and keep your head down the rest of the time, and it’ll be fine. All right?”

Angus nodded for a third time, not wanting to talk about it anymore. “I shouldn’t go riding tomorrow,” he muttered.

Jack’s brow furrowed. “What? What do you m—oh.” Jack scowled. “She said something to you?”

Angus looked away. “Poor manners,” he admitted in a mumble.

“Okay,” Jack sighed. “You know that isn’t true, right?”

“You weren’t—”

“I don’t have to be there. I know you. You were not rude, no matter what she says. She just—” Jack cut himself off before he could talk about the soon-to-be queen enjoying the exercise of her power. “And you know that I would never, ever hurt you, no matter what anyone said.”

The boy accepted Jack’s hand on his shoulder. “I know. Just…need to make it look like…”

“Then we’ll do something fun during your riding lesson instead,” Jack declared. “Maybe grab Wilt and go catch crawfish down in the creek. How about that?”

Angus gave a small but genuine smile. They had done that once before, and seeing Jack covered in mud when he’d slipped down the bank had thrown the boy into a paroxysm of laughter, which didn’t end even when Jack grabbed his ankle and pulled him down too. Soon, all three were slinging handfuls of mud at each other, the two boys shrieking in delight and Jack pretending to curse any time one of them scored a hit but really barely able to contain his own mirth.

That evening, when a royal messenger announced the prince’s formal invitation to the king’s birthday festivities, Angus was _almost_ able to receive the news with something approaching equanimity.

~~~

That feeling of relative calm lasted two days, during which Angus tried not to think about Anne’s words. If the worried hovering from Jack was any indication, he wasn’t succeeding.

Late one evening, Angus was yanked from his uneasy slumber by the slamming of his chamber door.

He rarely slept well, and since his encounter with the Lady Anne, his rest had been even more disturbed than usual. He was tossing fitfully when the sudden noise made him bolt upright, head swiveling, heart pounding.

“Angus!”

It was even worse than he’d imagined.

“F-fa—Sire,” he stammered, shrinking as far away as he could without falling off the bed.

“Get up,” King James snapped, leaning closer, near enough that in the dim light of the torches his son could see the blazing anger in his eyes.

Angus clamped down a whimper, scuttling to the opposite edge of the mattress and reluctantly sliding off, somehow feeling as though he had lost a measure of safety even though he now had the bed between himself and the infuriated king.

“Angus,” James growled again, and the boy shuddered at the sound of his name spoken like a curse.

The prince’s mind raced desperately. If Jack were here, king or not, James wouldn’t lay a hand on his son. Jack would risk arrest and imprisonment for defying—or even restraining—the king if it meant keeping Angus safe. But Jack was off duty now, presumably asleep in his own bed, and although it was just down the hall, it might as well have been a hundred miles away. Breland, the prince’s night watchman, wouldn’t care what the king did—would probably encourage it, in fact, this flurry of excitement pulling him from the near-stupor in which he normally passed his shift.

If he knew what he had done to incur his father’s wrath, perhaps he could placate him. It was a slim hope, one that had never materialized in the past, but at least this time, unlike most previous instances, Angus had an idea as to why the king was so angry. He must have spoken with Anne.

“Felicitations on your betrothal, Your Majesty,” he murmured in his most obsequious voice, head bowed subserviently.

Somehow, even that had been the wrong thing to say.

James stormed around the bed, swearing, and Angus flinched before he could hide the reaction. He instantly dropped to his knees, hoping against hope that the supplicant posture would start to appease the king.

“You dare wish me well?” James hissed, snatching the child’s hair and hauling him half-upright. “After you insult my betrothed to her face?”

Tears sprang into the prince’s eyes at the tight grip on his scalp, but he didn’t dare attempt to squirm away. “N-no, Sire, I didn’t—” He was cut off when his father shook him roughly, and he had to snap his mouth shut to avoid crying out.

“I am not here for your excuses, boy.”

“I-I—” Angus licked his lips, but his tongue was dry as sawdust. He barely forced the words out. “I will apologize to—to the Lady Anne, Sire.”

James unexpectedly released him, and the boy stumbled back, landing in a heap on the floor.

“No one wants your apologies,” James snarled.

Angus cowered against the side of his bed. He’d hardly seen his father for over a year, and time had softened the edges of his worst memories just enough that he’d forgotten the sheer terror of being confronted by an irate king, one who never hesitated to express his displeasure with his son. But now it was all rushing back. The pain. The fear. The all-encompassing crushing dread of—

The prince’s gaze landed on his heavy oak armoire, and a shiver rippled along his spine as a whimper crawled up his dry throat. The rational part of his mind tried to remind him that even if his father decided he needed to be locked in the closet as punishment, he wouldn’t be there for more than five or six hours. As soon as Wilt and Jack arrived in the morning, they would get him out.

He had survived longer.

He realized James was still raging, his rant punctuated by violent gestures that reminded the boy of what always happened _before_ his confinement. He drew his knees up to his chest and curled into the smallest ball possible, quaking as he awaited what he knew would happen next.

“Are you even listening to me, you half-wit?” James roared.

“Y-yes, Sire.” Angus sensed a hand moving closer and couldn’t stop himself from whispering, “Please, Sire. P-please don’t—please give me another chance. Please. I’ll—I’ll—”

“You will do as you are ordered, Angus,” James rebuked sharply, twisting the boy’s collar and pulling him up again.

“Y-yes, Sire.”

“You will attend the celebration in three days’ time.”

Angus nodded, too breathless to vocalize his acquiescence.

“You will be gracious to the next queen.”

Angus continued nodding.

“You will sit wherever the Lady Anne places you, accept whatever she gives you, and show her deference in front of the guests. Do you understand?” The king emphasized his words by shaking Angus by the shoulder.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Even an idiot like yourself can surely manage that simple task.”

Angus wished he could voice his fears that the presumptive queen planned malice toward him, but he was sure his father wouldn’t believe it. Or worse, he might not care.

“Angus!”

He’d taken too long to respond.

“I—I understand, Sire. I will do as you command.”

James grunted, shoving the child so that he stumbled and landed against the wall. “See that you do. If you are insolent to the Lady Anne on the evening her engagement is announced, no one at court would fault me for…_correcting_ your behavior.”

With that final threat, the king wheeled and stomped away, leaving a bruising stillness in the air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: allusions to child abuse, mild discussion of possible assassination attempts

Angus remained frozen for long minutes after he was left alone. He tried to be thankful that his father still cared enough about what the nobility thought to save him from the severe beating he would have otherwise received. Although James had dealt mercilessly with Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston, the three academics who had dared speak to the king about his treatment of his son, the king couldn’t be certain how they had come by the information. It was that and that alone, Angus was sure, that had stayed his father’s hand tonight.

But the king was right. If the Lady Anne accused the boy of impudence in front of the company of revelers, they would applaud the king for punishing his son, either publicly, which would add humiliation to the certain pain, or privately, which would undoubtedly mean the beating would be worse.

Was that the worst the Lady Anne had planned for a boy she had reason to despise? Or did she have more sinister plots in mind?

Angus tasted salt at the corner of his dry lips and realized he was crying.

He tried to crawl back into bed, but one foot slipped, and he went tumbling down to the floor. He lay there for a while, covering his face with his hands.

He wanted Jack.

It occurred to him suddenly, unexpectedly. He had wanted Jack earlier for security, but he was safe now. The king was extremely unlikely to return, so he no longer needed to fear for his wellbeing.

But he still wanted Jack.

It was ridiculous, he scolded himself, wishing for comfort for no reason. It wasn’t as though Jack would be able to come right now anyway, even if Angus could get a message to him. True, they had rigged up a bell a few months ago that stretched from the prince’s balcony to the knight’s, and Jack had said if Angus ever needed him, he could ring, and Jack would come outside so they could talk.

It had been the best compromise they could devise after Jack had strictly forbidden the child from attempting to cross the space between their balconies again, and the knight couldn’t often come up with an excuse for Breland to let him past to the prince’s chambers at night.

At least the bell had made Angus feel a little better. It was more than they’d had before, and though he’d never yet used it, he was positive Jack would respond immediately if he did.

But was it really fair to wake Jack up right now? It wasn’t as though he could do anything; it wasn’t as though Angus really needed anything. Even if Angus dared to recount the incident with the king across the space between them, that would just make Jack futilely angry and probably rob him of sleep for the remainder of the night.

No, Angus decided, as he dragged himself up and onto his mattress. It could wait until morning. He settled in for a sleepless night.

Sometime in the darkest hours of the early morning, Angus realized that he couldn’t tell Jack what had happened. It was all he could do to prevent his bodyguard from taking drastic—and violent—measures against those in court who jeered at the boy. Who knew what recklessness Jack would be driven to if he knew the king had come a hair’s breadth away from hurting his son?

That would help no one. And it might endanger Jack.

Angus could keep silent. He had to.

It took Jack about two seconds to recognize something was wrong, and despite the prince’s protests, the knight continued to badger, cajole, and prod until finally Angus said he hadn’t slept well, hoping that would be enough to throw his bodyguard off the scent. As expected, Jack expressed sympathy and started brainstorming ways to give Angus time for a nap, which the boy refused—he wasn’t an infant—finally winning the argument by detailing his schedule for the day and promising to try to get more sleep tonight.

It wasn’t a promise he could keep; he already knew that. But it got Jack to back off for a while.

Wilt staggered in just then, struggling to balance a heavily loaded tray as he pushed open the door. He’d gone in search of breakfast when Nellie, Chef Beatrice’s daughter, hadn’t brought their meal at the usual time.

“Wilt.” Jack crossed the room quickly and took the tray from the child.

“Thanks,” the valet panted. “Nellie was busy with—” He stopped dead, eyes flicking from Jack to Angus and back.

“What?” the prince prompted.

Wilt hesitated.

“Just say it,” Angus commanded wearily.

Wilt glanced at Jack again and received a shrug in reply. “Chef Beatrice said…” He hesitated but then forged on. “She said she has been coping for several days with the demands from—from the Lady Anne. Nellie is constantly running fresh delicacies to her chambers.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Eating for two,” Angus abruptly said, voice flat.

Jack and Wilt couldn’t respond.

Angus turned and stared out the window, posture unnaturally stiff.

“Angus?” Jack said tentatively, taking a step closer.

The boy gusted a sigh. “Jack…could I skip breakfast today? Just this once?”

Jack bit back his words before he could say something he’d regret.

“Please,” Angus added quietly, and Jack’s heart broke.

“Kiddo…” Jack thought about pointing out that Wilt had gone to extra trouble to fetch the tray from the kitchen himself, which would probably guilt the prince into eating at least a little. But when the child turned to look at him, his eyes shimmering with tears that he stubbornly refused to let fall, Jack changed his mind.

“Will you eat all of your midday meal?” he asked softly instead. He suspected Angus usually didn’t because Jack wasn’t in the library with him when the servants brought food for the duke and the young royal. Duke Lemière might encourage his pupil to eat, but he would be easily distracted.

Angus nodded somberly. “I promise.”

“All right,” Jack sighed. “Would you like to go out?”

Angus hesitated and then said uncertainly, “Not to the stables.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow, and Angus ducked his head.

“I—I don’t want to speak with anyone.”

That was a reasonable request. And if the prince could ignore the stares and whispers for one day, so could the knight.

Jack soon realized that “not speaking with anyone” included himself. He didn’t like it. He tried to respect the boy’s wishes, but the eerie silence was getting on his nerves.

“Angus, you want to tell me how leaves of herbs grow in patterns around the stem?”

The prince didn’t even look up. “I told you already. Twice.”

“But you say it so well. Just one more time for an old soldier who isn’t brilliant like you, okay?”

Angus didn’t bother to answer, but he moved a little closer to Jack’s side, and the knight had the feeling if there weren’t the constant possibility of being seen, the boy would have taken his hand.

“Did you know you’re my favorite person?” Jack murmured, surprised as soon as he heard the words slip out of his mouth. Not that they weren’t true, but he hadn’t meant to say so.

The prince stopped walking and tipped his head back, looking up into Jack’s face, gratitude and affection in his eyes. “Me too,” the boy whispered in return.

Jack smiled gently, steering their path in the direction of the prince’s favorite tree, which was far enough from the more open spaces that few people walked there.

“And since you’re my favorite person,” Jack continued in a low voice, “you know I want to help you in any way I can. No matter what’s bothering you.”

Angus lifted one shoulder almost indifferently.

“Did…Wilt’s news this morning make it seem…” Jack struggled to find the proper words. “More real?” He wasn’t sure that was the best choice, but the child didn’t react.

“No,” Angus said tonelessly. “We already suspected…the Lady Anne’s condition.”

Jack just hummed in response.

Angus stopped walking, staring at the giant spruce tree as though it held all the answers he sought. “It—it will be crowded,” he blurted unexpectedly.

“What? Where?”

The boy looked like he was regretting speaking now, eyes on his feet as he began digging a small hole with his toes.

“Angus? What do you mean?”

“At the jubilee,” the prince muttered.

It took Jack a second to think this through. “There will be many people there,” he agreed slowly. “It is a—a celebration.”

After a long moment, Angus said, “I—I haven’t been—I haven’t been to one in…years.”

“Oh, Angus.” Jack wished he could kneel and gather the child in his arms. He wondered if the prince had been permitted at any royal functions after his mother passed. If he had, they had almost certainly been excuses for the king to find fault with his son’s behavior.

And Angus probably didn’t care for crowds anyway. Jack couldn’t be sure, since he’d never seen the boy surrounded by more than a dozen people at a time, and the majority of those were servants, but Angus seemed to prefer his own company, giving himself time to think, or the companionship of Wilt or Jack, whom he trusted.

Jack tried to think what he could say that would make the child feel better.

“You are unlikely to need to speak to everyone,” he ventured.

The boy’s expression didn’t change, and Jack knew he hadn’t addressed his concerns.

“What are you thinking, Angus?”

The prince frowned, but after a few minutes, he spoke again. “Will—do you think—will any of the guests carry weapons?”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “Weapons? What are you talking about? Where is this—” Something clicked into place. “You think someone would try to harm you?” He had a sudden vision of the crowd pressing around a small boy, hemming him in where he couldn’t be seen, a knife moving unnoticed, the crowd dispersing, leaving behind a still, bleeding form...

“Or the king.” Unaware of Jack’s train of thought, Angus tried to sound less selfish.

Jack couldn’t care two figs about the king, still reeling from the mental image of _Angus_…He wrenched his mind away desperately.

“You will not be hurt,” Jack vowed fiercely.

“The king—”

“The king has multiple guards around him and sentries at every entrance. He will be fine. And you—” Jack fixed his young charge with such steady determination that Angus couldn’t look away. “I will be right by your side. I will not let anyone near you.”

Angus gaped. He hadn’t even entertained the notion that Jack could come with him. If Jack were there, none of the Lady Anne’s “special friends” would get close enough to use a dagger or garrote.

“Are you—can you—is that permissible?”

Jack hadn’t heard otherwise, so he decided to assume so. “I am your bodyguard,” he replied resolutely, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “I go where you go.” He didn’t regret the statement when a little of the tension ebbed from the boy’s posture. He recalled that the Lady Anne had appeared to appreciate his presence. If he had to share a few heated gazes with that harpy for her to allow him to stay with the prince, so be it.

They heard the bells tolling the hour and turned back toward the castle.

“You’ll be safe, Angus,” Jack assured him again, trying to console himself with the thought as well. “No one will lay a hand on you.”

To his surprise, the boy looked away, mumbling, “They needn’t.”

“What?”

Angus ducked his head, clearly not expecting his bodyguard to have heard his quiet words.

“Angus, what do you mean by that? No. Stop right there.” Jack stopped walking and halted the child with a firm tone. “This relates to your safety, which definitely makes it my business. You do not get to tell me you don’t want to talk about this.”

“I didn’t mean anything, Jack,” the prince protested softly, but his voice quavered. “I just meant…”

“Go on,” Jack prompted.

“Not all weapons require—require physical contact. That’s all.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You mean arrows? The perimeter guards will take care of that, son.” Even as he said the words, he knew that hadn’t been on the boy’s mind.

“Okay,” Angus agreed, attempting to start toward the castle again.

“Angus.”

The boy stopped but did not turn.

“What were you thinking? What are you worried about?”

Angus didn’t reply, and Jack began running through his mental list of dangers, which he updated regularly and kept organized by lethality, probability, and difficulty of detection. It took a while before he hit upon the one he instinctively knew was frightening the prince.

“Angus,” he said fiercely. “Do you think someone is going to _poison_ you?”

The boy stiffened and then shook his head frantically.

“Angus.”

“I just meant it was possible,” Angus blurted a bit desperately. “To get to—to someone that way.”

Jack cocked his head. “You know the king has a designated taste-tester.” In actuality, the paranoid king had a roster of taste-testers, one from every province, whom he rotated randomly so that would-be poisoners could never be sure which tester would be tasting each meal. “It would not be difficult to request one for you as well. Or I could do it.” He didn’t expect Angus to agree to that, even though it was literally Jack’s job to put himself between the prince and any danger. He didn’t anticipate the child’s nose wrinkling.

“Taste-testers are an impractical means of defense.”

Jack was staggered for a moment. “Oh? How so?”

Angus shrugged. “They take a single bite. Perhaps a poison is effective only in larger doses. Or perhaps it is delayed, and the effects will be felt later. Or—”

“All right,” Jack interrupted. “You have thought a lot about this.” He shouldn’t have been surprised. Angus thought a lot about many things.

The prince was staring into the distance. “There is no practical way to avoid poisons. Other than…” He sucked in a breath. “Other than to refuse food and drink from—suspicious sources.”

Jack nodded. “Well, that should be easy enough. The royal kitchens will make all the food for the celebration.”

“Of course.”

The knight frowned. Angus had agreed too easily. He was obviously trying to act as though Jack had assuaged his fears. The knight allowed them to continue their course toward the library, thinking deeply all the while.

They were almost to the study when the light finally dawned.

“Angus…” Jack spoke in a hushed voice. “Do you think the king would stoop to—to—”

Angus jerked his head up, eyes wide. It hadn’t occurred to him that the king might have reason to rid himself of his unwanted firstborn son, perhaps just as much reason as the Lady Anne. It would make their union simpler and would smooth the path for their eventual offspring.

After the supposed accident in the archives that had taken the lives of Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston, Angus would believe almost anything of his father. But surely the coldblooded murder of his own son was a step too far even for King James. Wasn’t it?

“He wouldn’t…” Jack mumbled almost inaudibly, clearly following a similar line of thought.

“He needn’t.” The prince tried to sound convincing, hoping it would reassure them both. “He has only to give the command, and I—I will be sent away. He can decree that—that I am no longer in line for the throne.”

Jack nodded miserably. Although there were some days he wished he could take Angus away from all this, give him a childhood without any royal expectations limiting him, he still believed that one day this boy would grow into the finest king the land had ever seen. And Jack would be by his side every step of the way.

“It was—a foolish concern,” Angus continued, hoping to make his bodyguard feel better. There was no way he was telling Jack his worries about the Lady Anne. They were probably unfounded anyway. The prince had an active imagination. He had likely conjured the whole incident when the soon-to-be-queen had meant no harm at all.

Angus cast a quick look around and then tugged on Jack’s hand. The knight immediately lost the haze in his eyes and turned his attention to the boy. “I will be safe, Jack.” He summoned up a smile. “I’m always safe with you.”

The child slipped into his tutor’s study before Jack could respond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References to an unfinished work in this series that is set prior to this one (the bell on the balcony). Was hoping to finish it first, but this one caught my imagination, so I'll have to go back and get to that one later.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: sexual advances and attempted seduction; extremely mild discussion of sex and male and female biology; mild references to child abuse; brief mentions of mortal threats

Jack was alternating between smiling softly as he remembered the prince’s words and frowning in thought as he visualized the banquet hall, planning exit routes and thinking of nooks in which he could hide the boy temporarily if need be, when he was interrupted by a quiet cough.

“Sir Dalton?”

Jack looked down to see a young page standing awkwardly in front of him.

“You have a message for His Highness?”

“No, sir. For you.”

Jack’s eyebrows lifted. “Indeed?”

“Yes, sir. The Lady Anne most cor—cordively sum—” The boy gave up attempting to recite what he’d been told. “She wants you to come.”

“Come?” Jack repeated blankly. “Come where? Why?”

“To her chambers, sir.” The page ducked his head shyly. “I do not know why.”

“It’s all right, lad,” Jack said swiftly. Of course the messenger didn’t know. “Now?”

“Yes, sir.”

The knight hesitated. “Is the Lady Anne aware I am on duty?”

The page brightened up, remembering more of his instructions. “Yes, sir. She says it will not take long and that you will be back before His Highness has finished with—” He paused, thinking, but Jack could fill in the rest.

“I see,” he said heavily. It was probably unwise to refuse the summons, and he had to admit that he was curious what she wanted. She likely had more directives for the prince, and better that Jack heard them first than that she spoke to the boy again herself. He nodded to the page, who scampered off, pleased to be released from further responsibility.

~~~

“Sir Dalton.” Lady Anne did not rise from her divan when her ladies-in-waiting ushered Jack into her private chamber. Her long, brocaded gown spread in a silken swirl around her, and she leaned back against the cushions, held tilted so that her earrings caught the light and the jewels at her throat gleamed. She was unquestionably beautiful, Jack admitted to himself, and she knew how to adorn herself to her best advantage.

“My lady. How may I be of service?”

If Anne noticed the knight’s stiff tone, she did not react, waving a hand until her courtiers disappeared, closing the doors behind them. “So nice to have a few moments of peace, don’t you agree?” she purred.

Jack said nothing, but she acted as though she didn’t notice.

“Come, knight.” She beckoned, voice a husky whisper.

Jack took one step forward. “My lady?”

She hummed, lifting a hand and twining a slender finger in her glossy hair.

“You requested that I come,” Jack said a bit impatiently, hiding his growing unease. “How may I assist you?”

Anne raised her eyes innocently to the ceiling before slanting a glance toward Jack. “I shall soon be queen, you know.”

In all his years as a squire and then as a knight, Jack had never received training for responding to a pronouncement such as this. He stayed silent.

“It will be announced soon.”

Jack still said nothing, and Anne sat up, skirts ruffling with the movement.

“The king sometimes has some…peculiar ideas.”

That was, Jack thought, the understatement of the century, but his curiosity prompted him to speech. “Indeed?”

“Mm.” She hummed again, absently fingering the choker around her neck. “He has become…surprisingly modest after hearing the—the blessed tidings.”

It took all Jack’s restraint not to vomit. Then her meaning sunk in.

“The king has not…visited your chambers?” He tried to inquire delicately, but it occurred to him that this was absolutely none of his business.

Her pout was answer enough. “Until the new heir arrives,” she said petulantly. “So he says.”

“I see.” But he didn’t, really. Why was the Lady Anne confiding her pre-marital woes with _him_?

“Which means he needn’t know who warms my bed in his absence.”

Jack shouldn’t have been as shocked as he was, but perhaps it was her directness rather than her proposition.

“My lady…” he fumbled.

“Anne,” she corrected, rising smoothly. “You may say my name when we are here. In…_private_.”

Jack shook his head, berating himself for the step he took back. “I cannot, my lady.”

Those enlarged pupils raked over him in a calculating gaze. “You have been…unmanned? In battle?”

“N-no!”

“Then there is nothing easier,” she cooed, moving closer until the scent of saffron assaulted Jack’s nose, and he nearly gagged. “You have no aversion to a woman’s flow, I presume?”

“F—” Jack’s eyes widened as the implication hit him. “You are not with child,” he stammered before he could stop himself.

She studied him shrewdly, pinning him in place. “I will be.”

Jack shuddered. If the king truly vowed not to consummate his marriage until the baby’s arrival, the Lady Anne apparently saw only one option.

“I am in position to grant many favors,” Anne breathed, lips now mere inches from Jack’s ear. “Bodyguard to the king himself, perhaps?”

Jack’s mouth twitched, a motion that did not go unnoticed.

“Perhaps that is a bit uncouth,” she soothed. “But royal guard to the new heir…” She trailed off tantalizingly before dropping her voice and leaning even closer. “Your son will be by your side, will learn to love you, in his way.”

“As his guard,” Jack said flatly.

“What better environment for a child than as the son of the king?”

From her expression, Jack saw that she believed what she was saying.

“And for you, lands, titles, wealth, privilege. And…” She cocked an eyebrow enticingly. “A few afternoons of…immense pleasure.”

Jack felt heat flush his face, unsure if it were anger or her proximity. “I must go, my lady.” He stumbled over his words.

Her lips tightened. “You refuse?”

A shred of self-preservation prevented Jack from immediately saying what he was thinking, namely that he was repulsed by her and everything she said. Instead, he mumbled something about needing to return to duty.

Anne studied him. “I will send for you earlier tomorrow.” It was not a request.

Jack nearly fled from her chambers, mind still reeling. The Lady Anne was not with child. She wanted Jack to conspire with her to fool the king. She could be a dangerous enemy if crossed.

Jack needed to talk to Angus.

~~~

“No, Jack, you can’t push her off the keep,” Angus said mildly.

Jack thumped a hand against his chest, looking offended. “I never said that!”

“You were thinking it.”

This was true, but Jack didn’t think it was a good idea to admit as much to the boy he was responsible for. He huffed irritably. “Well, I’m sure not—uh—doin’ what she wants.”

Wilt’s wide-eyed gaze traveled from the knight to the prince, who noticeably relaxed. Wilt frowned, thinking. What precisely about this situation was causing his friend such stress?

“No,” Angus agreed. “It would be treason.”

The prince’s tone told his valet that while that was a concern, that wasn’t what he’d truly been worried about.

Jack caught the undercurrents too. “I’m not gettin’ near her again, not if I can help it,” he reassured softly. He had no desire to literally sleep with the enemy.

“But—” Angus paused, expression thoughtful, and Jack could almost see the gears spinning and whirring in the little genius’s mind. “The king does not know,” he murmured, thinking out loud.

Wilt spoke up. “If he did, he’d probably throw her off the castle wall himself.”

Jack nodded. Wilt was almost certainly right. Jack would not be sorry to see her go, even to such a brutal end. After all, she had plotted against Prince Angus, deliberately setting out to cut him from the royal line of succession.

Angus was kinder than either of his friends. “She doesn’t deserve that,” he protested swiftly, but he admitted to himself that he would feel safer if she were gone. “But the king must be informed.” For a terrifying instant, Angus wondered if his father would marry the woman anyway. Then he shook off that idea. If there was one thing James hated more than disloyalty and disobedience, it was being fooled. The king could run intellectual circles around most of the subjects in his realm, and he didn’t appreciate someone knowing something he did not, especially if it were demonstrated publicly.

Wilt and Jack didn’t know the king as well.

“Won’t he just…marry her anyway?” Wilt asked hesitantly. “Will he care that she isn’t—you know—right now?”

“She led him on,” Angus replied firmly. “He—he won’t be able to forgive that.”

“No man likes to look a fool,” Jack agreed quietly.

Wilt brightened. “So all we have to do is tell the king what happened, and she’ll be gone!” He knew this didn’t mean Angus’s position was completely safe—the king could still marry again in the future—but this would likely leave a sour taste that would linger for quite a while.

Angus paled. “We can’t just _tell_ him.” He bit his lip when both his friends turned to him. “He—he won’t believe m—us.”

Jack nodded thoughtfully. “The Lady Anne could accuse me of—” He looked down at his young audience and said hastily, “—of anything. No one else was present in the room. Her words would carry more weight with the king.”

All three were silent for a while.

“Guess that’s why she was eating so much,” Wilt finally muttered absently.

“What?”

“You know. To—to get fatter. To look right.”

Jack raised his eyebrows in agreement. Anne must have suspected she was not truly pregnant, so she had done her best to keep up appearances. But then her time arrived that month, confirming her worst fears, and she realized she needed to take drastic action. Jack didn’t approve, but he did somewhat understand her reasoning.

And then he noticed the light shining in the prince’s eyes.

“You have an idea, Angus?” he prodded gently.

The boy lifted his head, blue eyes still gleaming. “We need evidence. And Wilt just reminded me that she has all the castle servants at her beck and call. Her handmaid would be able to get us what we need.”

“Evidence?” Wilt scrunched up his nose. “Like what?”

Jack blushed and studiously avoided eye contact with either child. Surely by this age, the boys had a basic understanding of female biology, didn’t they? It wouldn’t be up to _Jack_ to explain to them, right?

“This is the correct time of month,” he offered stiffly, still staring at the wall but watching out of the corner of his eye, relieved when understanding dawned on Wilt’s face. Angus looked uncomfortable with the topic but grateful for the timing.

“Then when she calls you tomorrow, you can distract her,” Angus said determinedly. Before Jack could protest, he continued, “That will give us a chance to talk to her handmaid and get what we need.”

Wilt nodded, but Jack whipped around fiercely. “Give _who_ a chance to talk to her handmaid?”

Angus shrank a little before the sharp demand. “M-me. And Wilt.”

Jack was already shaking his head. “No.”

“But—”

“No. You are not going anywhere near her chambers.”

“But, Jack—”

“That is just asking for trouble, Angus.”

“Bu—”

“I said no.”

“I can go,” Wilt cut in before tempers could rise further.

Jack thought for a second and then jerked his head once.

Angus scowled. “If Wilt—”

“Don’t start, Angus.”

The prince knew his valet had freer access around the castle than he did—few people noticed servants, after all. But it wasn’t fair to send his friend into a tricky situation while he stayed back where it was safe. Jack should understand that. He had never stayed back from battle.

“You can’t expect—”

“I _expect_ you to be smart enough to know that we all have different roles here,” Jack snapped.

“She threatened _me_, not you!” Angus fired back, regretting it instantly.

Jack and Wilt froze.

“She what?” Jack asked slowly.

“Angus…” Wilt sounded so hurt that the prince felt even worse.

“N-nothing. I didn’t—”

“Angus.”

The boy sighed. “That day she came to—to the study.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “What did she say?”

Angus looked away and mumbled, “She didn’t really say anything.”

“Angus,” Jack warned.

“I—I could be wrong.”

“But you don’t think you are. So keep going.”

“She—she might have _implied_—maybe—but maybe not—”

Jack swore. “That’s why you were talking about poisons. Isn’t it?”

Wilt’s eyes grew even larger. “_What_? She was going to _poison_ you?”

Angus opened his mouth to protest, took in the tight fury on Jack’s face and the frightened dismay on Wilt’s, and ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”

Wilt blinked. “Why?” His voice grew hard. “_She’s_ the one who should be sorry.”

“She will be,” Jack said coldly. “Wilt, can you go find out who serves the Lady Anne? See what you can find out about them. I need to talk to Angus. About the rest of the plan,” he added insincerely when both boys looked up at him, wide-eyed.

The valet nodded determinedly, patting his friend on the shoulder before disappearing.

Jack stood up to pace, but Angus remained huddled in his chair, fingers nervously pleating the hem of his tunic, waiting for the lecture he knew was coming.

The footsteps finally slowed, and then Jack was kneeling in front of him, hands on the child’s slender arms. “What else haven’t you told me?”

Angus glanced up. Jack’s voice was gentle. Kind, even. “Are you angry?”

“At that har—woman? Furious. At you?” Jack sighed. “Kiddo, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“I could have been wrong,” Angus spoke in a small voice. “She didn’t—didn’t say outright.”

“But you’re smart enough to read between the lines,” Jack said dryly. “And it isn’t your job to decide if something is really a threat or not. It’s better to have more information than less, remember? That’s what you always tell me.”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” the boy mumbled.

“Wor—_worry_ me?” Jack half-laughed. “That’s practically my entire job, Angus. Taking care of you means I _always_ worry about you. At least if you tell me what’s going on, I might be able to do something about it.”

“I’m sorry,” Angus repeated, staring at his hands.

“Hey.” Jack swept him up and rose to his full height, holding the boy close, one arm supporting his weight and the other pressing the blond head to his shoulder.

Although they had never done this before, Angus instinctively secured his legs around Jack’s waist and shut his eyes, not bothering to protest, trying to lose himself in the comfort the knight offered. It didn’t work particularly well because the prince knew exactly what his bodyguard’s next question would be.

He didn’t have to wait long. “What else haven’t you told me, Angus?” Jack repeated, the words almost inaudible against the boy’s ear.

Angus thought about denying it again, but he wouldn’t be convincing, not when Jack could feel every tremor in his body.

“You’ll be angry,” he whispered instead.

“At you?” Jack paused to stroke the blond head under his hand. “If I am, you’re still safe, right?”

Angus nodded dutifully.

“Go ahead and tell me, bud,” Jack urged softly, pacing the length of the prince’s room, the gentle swaying motion soothing.

Angus buried his face in the crook of Jack’s neck. “My—the king came to my chambers.”

Jack stopped sharply. “What? When?”

“L-last night.”

The knight held the boy slightly away so he could inspect him. “Did he touch you?” he demanded harshly, trying to relax his grip so he didn’t hurt the child.

Angus shook his head quickly.

“Angus, I swear, if you are hiding something from me, I will make sure Wilt helps you get dressed every single day. And you _know_ he’ll tell me if he sees any marks.”

“There aren’t! He didn’t! He—he just—”

“Just what?” Jack pursued relentlessly.

Angus looked away, ashamed. “Just—just grabbed my hair. That’s all.”

There was a brooding silence.

“Really, that’s all?”

Angus swallowed. “I promise.”

“Okay.” Jack’s jaw clicked. “Are you okay?”

Angus nodded.

“Tell me the truth.”

“I am. I’m fine. It—it hurt a little, but it was already fine by—by the morning. I’m fine.”

Jack heaved another sigh, cradling the boy close to him again. “Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

Angus hesitated but went with honesty. “N-no. I—I didn’t want you to—to do something…”

“Oh, kiddo.” Jack understood, and as much as he wanted to be upset with this child, he was overwhelmed by the prince’s selflessness. “Didn’t want me to do somethin’ dumb that woulda gotten me in trouble, huh?”

Angus didn’t answer, but he curled a fist in Jack’s collar.

“Okay. We can talk more about that later. Right now, we need to figure out how we’re going to get that evidence into the king’s hands.”

Peeking up to make sure Jack really wasn’t upset, Angus quirked a half-smile. “I have an idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of curiosity, were you surprised that Anne isn't pregnant, or did you somewhat expect that? Since I always knew she wasn't, I couldn't tell if the foreshadowing was completely obvious or not. If it was a surprise, awesome! If not, great predicting!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: incredibly brief and mild references to sexual advances, extremely mild flirting between adolescents, strong implications of mortal danger

Predictably, Jack hated the idea. However, he agreed faster than anticipated, primarily, Angus suspected, because the knight knew the boy would do it anyway as soon as Jack was occupied with the Lady Anne and couldn’t stop him.

Wilt returned with news filtered through the scullery maids. To no one’s surprise, he reported that none of the castle workers had much good to say about the Lady Anne. She was haughty and demanding, even by royal standards—which she wasn’t yet, the servants were quick to point out—and there were already rumors swirling about whether or not she was really carrying the king’s child. Jack tried to cover the prince’s ears, only to be shoved away, when Wilt detailed the prevailing theories, which were that Anne’s child was not the king’s or, if it were, that she had bewitched the king. Of course, those who served the Lady Anne directly now knew she was not with child at all, and this story was starting to mix in with the others as fodder for happy gossiping.

More importantly, Wilt knew the most likely of Anne’s maids to take a step beyond talking and provide evidence—assuming it was not to the king himself.

“It won’t be.” Angus outlined his plan again.

Wilt was against it, but as usual, he eventually capitulated. Frankly, he didn’t see what would be so bad about Angus no longer being in line to the throne. The valet had no love for King James since he knew, better than almost anyone, exactly how the king had treated his son. But…Wilt might not be able to go with Angus to wherever he was sent. And the thought of being separated from his friend made the boy agree to play his part and not try to prevent the prince from playing his.

~~~

As promised, a messenger from the Lady Anne approached Jack the next day shortly after Angus had entered his tutor’s study. Jack discreetly tapped the door three times before taking a deep breath to steel himself and heading for Anne’s chambers.

A few minutes later, Angus popped out into the hall. He had told Duke Lemière that he was feeling unwell, and this so unsettled his kindly tutor that the man immediately dismissed him and called for a page to fetch the royal physician. The duke was far too forgetful to recognize how unusual it was for the prince not to protest this attention.

Dr. Loda knocked briefly at the prince’s chambers and entered, his presence an almost palpable force of calm. Angus relaxed a little as his plan progressed.

“You are unwell, Your Highness?” the physician inquired delicately, scanning the boy without appearing intrusive.

Angus took a deep breath. He had asked the gentle physician for a favor once before, and while Dr. Loda couldn’t oblige, he had helped as much as he could. The prince had later sent him a small silver caduceus engraved with a blessing in the physician’s native Arabic, which he noticed the doctor now wore on a chain around his neck. This heartened him greatly.

“Dr. Loda. Thank you for coming.”

The physician bowed his head. “Of course, my prince.”

“I—I am afraid Duke Lemière may have been…confused.”

The impassive face did not change, but the doctor’s voice held a note of amusement. “That…does seem eminently possible, Your Highness.”

“I merely had a message to convey.”

“Indeed, Your Highness?”

“Yes.” Angus took another steadying breath. “It is from my father. King James.”

Dr. Loda’s eyebrows didn’t lift in disbelief, but Angus had the impression that they came close. The physician didn’t know the details of the relationship between the royals, but he was aware, as was everyone in the castle, that the king rarely saw his son.

For a long moment, Angus thought he might get called out on the lie. He tried to meet the doctor’s eyes without flinching, waiting for a response.

“What does the king desire?” Dr. Loda said finally.

Angus almost drooped in relief. “He—he desires an update on the Lady Anne’s health.”

“Ah.” Long slim fingers steepled together. “In fact, this is most excellent timing, Your Highness.”

“How so?”

“The king had ordered a midwife to be installed at the palace. It is much too early, of course, but—” Dr. Loda seemed to recall himself and abandoned the tangent. “She arrived only yesterday and has met briefly with the Lady Anne. She could provide the king with—” He slanted a glance at the child and chose his words carefully. “With more exact details.”

Angus considered this. An unknown person was a gamble, but the doctor was right in that her words would be even more conclusive since the male physician likely had not been permitted more than a verbal consultation with the patient.

“I can send her to the Lady Anne’s chambers and then to the king,” Dr. Loda offered, the question in his voice clear.

“Yes. Please do so. Thank you, Doctor,” Angus decided, smiling with real gratitude.

The physician smiled fractionally and bowed again. “It is my pleasure, Your Highness.”

~~~

Jack hoped he would be given the all-clear soon. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep Anne away from him.

She had been even more direct than the previous day, and he had only managed to fend her off temporarily by distracting her with tales of the grand galas the late queen had hosted. Anne listened, hungry for every detail, no doubt planning how her own reign would be infinitely more magnificent. She asked questions no knight could be expected to know, but fortunately, Jack had always been good at saying pleasing untruths in a charming voice, and she didn’t question his frankly outlandish descriptions of gowns and jewels and hairstyles.

Wilt had exhibited tremendous charm of his own. Armed with an introduction from his friend Nellie, he soon had the youngest handmaid from Anne’s chambers giggling with him in the hall.

“Naw, g’wan with you now!” Gwyn simpered, smacking Wilt’s arm lightly and continuing to laugh.

“It’s true!” Wilt bantered back, eyes sparkling. He may have embellished some of his escapades with Angus—and he certainly hadn’t told her that his friend was the prince—but she was loving every second of his stories.

Not sure how much time he had, Wilt pressed forward as soon as he deemed Gwyn sufficiently receptive.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be funny to trick the old lady?” he asked conspiratorially.

This elicited a long, drawn-out squeal that sort of hurt Wilt’s ears. She was so quick to agree to the valet’s suggestion that she was adding to it before he could even finish. Wilt appreciated her enthusiasm and hoped her memory was as strong.

Thankfully, she didn’t need to remember for long. Wilt straightened up when he spotted Dr. Loda’s tall, slim figure gliding down the hall, accompanied by a short, plump, efficient-looking woman whose severe dark gowns rustled as she kept up with the physician’s longer strides.

“The Lady Anne’s rooms, Mistress Carraway,” Dr. Loda murmured deferentially when they were near. His eyes slid over and caught Wilt’s, and though his face betrayed no surprise, the valet thought he saw sudden understanding light the man’s features. Wilt tipped his head slightly to indicate the openly awed young girl next to him.

“You serve her ladyship?” Dr. Loda addressed Gwyn, not waiting for an answer from the tongue-tied maid. “Mistress Carraway wishes for news of your lady’s health.” He exchanged a few quiet words with the midwife, nodded almost imperceptibly at Wilt, and left, absolving himself of any involvement in whatever should happen next.

The midwife dismissed Wilt with a glance, but he lingered at the corner long enough to see her briskly questioning Gwyn and gravely accepting the cloth the girl offered. Wilt grinned and waited for Mistress Carraway to leave and Gwyn to disappear into Anne’s outer rooms before he began to screech like a hawk, the agreed-upon signal.

Wilt might have exaggerated his ability to mimic a bird of prey, or perhaps Jack just couldn’t extricate himself quickly. The boy had to repeat the signal three times, enough that Gwyn opened the door a crack, peeking out with a puzzled expression until she caught sight of Wilt, and lit up, giggling at him. He really hoped she didn’t think he’d been signaling for _her_.

Fortunately, Jack emerged a moment later, nearly running, and Wilt scampered after him toward the prince’s chambers to report on the progress of the plan.

Angus wasn’t in his rooms. Wilt panicked, searching the entire space twice, even lifting the pillows as though the prince might be hiding under them. Jack interrogated him narrowly, and they decided Dr. Loda’s presence at the Lady Anne’s suite meant Angus had fulfilled his role. Which meant he should be here.

Jack swore as it occurred to him. Of course Angus couldn’t rest until he knew for sure. He knew where the boy must have gone.

Angus would be eavesdropping on the king.

~~~

Angus was no longer listening, racing through the halls in a stolen cloak with only one thought in his mind.

He had to save her.

The prince knew he was supposed to stay in his rooms, allow things to play out, but his curiosity had overwhelmed him, and he’d decided it would do no harm if he were not caught. And Jack didn’t need to know.

Angus remembered playing in the great hall when he was very young, back when his mother and father both received supplicants and guests, and he could still recall all the hiding spots he’d discovered. He slipped unnoticed along the upper gallery, peeking out with one eye.

He didn’t know Mistress Carraway by sight, but when she was admitted to the king’s presence, he heard her speak over the faint noise of the crowd, saying she was there to deliver an update on the Lady Anne’s condition.

Angus watched the king’s face register surprise and then calculation. He held up a hand to forestall further comments, waving at his attendants until they cleared the hall.

When the king was alone with Mistress Carraway, he gestured for her to continue. Without the distractions, Angus could hear even better now, and her voice carried.

“Your Majesty. It is my great honor and privilege to serve you and your—household.” She stumbled slightly, not daring to call the Lady Anne his betrothed since it had not yet been publicly announced.

King James inclined his head graciously, but Angus could see the impatience on his face.

“The Lady Anne is a young woman in excellent health, strong and with good breeding. She has no mania in her family. Her courses are regular. She should bear the king many fine children.”

There was a small pause. “Her _what_?”

The midwife cheerfully raised her voice. “Her courses, Your Majesty. They are full and steady. Indeed, she provided evidence to me of such just this morning.” She lifted the cloth.

A stab of fear shot through Angus as his father’s expression darkened thunderously. He wondered if they’d made a terrible mistake.

And then he was tearing through the halls, snatching a footman’s abandoned cloak to wrap over himself so as not to attract more notice. He didn’t wait for Anne’s door to open more than a crack before he shot inside, bursting into her inner chamber without being announced.

Lady Anne looked up from her table of powders and unguents, waving a hand when her ladies-in-waiting twittered about fetching the guards.

“Lady Anne,” Angus panted.

She gestured imperiously until the servants left them alone. “Prince Angus.” She raised an eyebrow coolly. “Your presence is…unexpected. Perhaps I shall mention it to your f—”

“He knows,” the boy blurted.

She froze. “Pardon?”

“The king. He—he knows you aren’t—aren’t—” Angus faltered under her gimlet stare, but in the end, Anne looked away first.

“He knows…” she breathed, her tone weighty as she considered the implications.

For the first time, Angus realized she was not quite as brainless as she led others to believe. She didn’t protest the charge, didn’t insist the king loved her anyway. She was fully aware it was only her supposed pregnancy that had elicited a proposal, and she could well imagine the consequences of deceiving the king. She shivered.

“You must leave,” Angus urged. “Now. Tonight. Immediately.”

“Why does it matter to you?” she asked bluntly.

Angus bit his lip. “No one deserves—no one should suffer—it is your _life_, my lady. Please, if you wish to save it, you must go. You have jewels, furs. You can go far. He will not give chase for long.” He hoped that was true.

She said nothing for a long time, studying the prince. Finally, she stood and directed him to the door. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Angus slunk back toward his chambers, depositing the borrowed cloak where it would be found. He had done all he could.

~~~

Angus hadn’t even made it half the distance before he was confronted by an extremely angry knight.

“What happened to the plan?” Jack hissed, arms crossed as he glared down at the errant child. He had scouted around the great hall and had seen Mistress Carraway leave, but there was no sign of Angus. He wondered then if the boy were crazy enough to confront the Lady Anne on his own. Apparently he had, if his guilty posture meant anything.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Angus began softly.

Jack shook his head sharply. “Not here. Come on.” He turned on his heel and led the boy back to his chambers, where he’d left Wilt waiting in case Angus returned before Jack found him.

“Angus!” Wilt leaped up immediately, pausing at the look on his friend’s face. “Are you all right?”

“We’ll see about that when I’m through with him,” Jack said grimly. “Wilt, you’re dismissed.”

The valet’s mouth dropped open, and he looked from Jack to Angus. The knight was staring stonily at the prince. Angus refused to look anywhere but the floor.

“I—”

“You may return for your evening duties.” Jack’s tone brooked no resistance. Wilt edged out the door, shutting it softly behind him.

For several minutes, there was a silent stand-off, Jack still glaring, Angus still refusing to look at him.

“What in heaven’s name were you _thinking_?” Jack finally raged. “She _threatened_ you—”

“And I might have gotten her killed!”

Jack felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. “Wh—”

“I should have known. I—I had to have known. My f—the king would not forgive.” Angus finally looked up, blue eyes wet. “He will kill her, Jack.”

“Y-You can’t know that.”

“I do.” He couldn’t say it, but they were both thinking about the king’s merciless response to Lord Bremer, Lady Carruthers, and Lord Falston. Angus was right. James would not spare someone who had crossed him.

“So you…” Jack still couldn’t breathe properly, couldn’t get enough air to finish his question.

“I had to warn her, Jack,” Angus said in a small voice.

“She—she wanted to _poison_ you.”

Angus looked away again. “Everyone deserves another chance.”

Jack collapsed into a chair, holding out an arm. After a second of hesitation, Angus crept a little closer. The knight pulled him close.

“You—you are too good for this world, you know that, kid?” Jack muttered into the child’s hair.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stay here,” Angus mumbled back, voice muffled in Jack’s shoulder. “Sorry I didn’t do what you said.”

Jack snorted. “No, you’re not.” He rubbed the boy’s back. “You’re always going to do what you think is best.” His tone was chiding but unmistakably fond.

Angus thought about apologizing again, but Jack continued before he could.

“So I just have to keep watching out for you, no matter what you think you have to do.”

The boy melted a little further into Jack’s embrace. “Even if I’m dismissed from the castle? If I’m no longer—no longer the king’s heir?”

“Oh, Angus.” Jack hugged him tightly. “You will always be royalty to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Loda is, in my head, the physician mentioned near the end of just_another_outcast's [**Forbidden**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047893). As far as I could find, he was never named, but he was relatively kind to Prince Angus and had been at the castle for many years.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: minor character death, (misplaced) guilt
> 
> Blink-and-you'll-miss-it reference to Shakespeare's _Othello_ (Act 5, Scene 2). Retelling of the story of Pasiphae from Greek mythology. (More information about [**Pasiphae**](https://www.greeklegendsandmyths.com/pasiphae.html) and the [**Minotaur**](https://www.greeklegendsandmyths.com/minotaur.html) available here, among other places.)

Jack was just buckling his sword belt the next morning when he heard a frantic but muffled pounding on his door.

“Jack!”

“Wilt?” Jack gestured for the valet to come inside, but Wilt shook his head, nearly dancing in impatience.

“You need to get to her chambers and find out what happened,” he said so fast it took Jack a full twenty seconds to parse the words.

“Whose chambers?” But Jack had a sinking feeling he already knew.

Wilt actually glared at him in exasperation for not moving quickly enough. “The Lady Anne! Everyone is talking about it. Something happened to her, Jack.”

_To_ her. Jack felt his heart sink. He had thought the silly woman had enough sense to heed the prince’s warning and flee for her life. Perhaps she hadn’t been fast enough.

“Does—”

“Angus doesn’t know yet. I told you first. I’ll—I’ll tell him something to give you some time, but you need to go find out what happened!” Deciding words were not working, Wilt tried shoving the knight with both hands. The small boy couldn’t budge him, of course, but Jack moved anyway.

He hated leaving Angus unprotected, even here in the castle, but Jack was in a better position than Wilt to get information if there were guards near the Lady Anne’s rooms.

“All right,” he sighed. “I’ll go, but you make sure Angus stays put. Either one of you leave his room and I’ll…” He trailed off, not sure how to complete that warning, but Wilt just nodded.

“I’ll keep him there. Go!” He pushed again, and this time Jack loped off.

A dozen tragic scenarios tumbled through Jack’s mind as he hurried through the hallways. Would the king make it look like an accident as he had in the archives? Would he bother with subterfuge, instead sending a message to the kingdom not to cross him or suffer the consequences? Jack didn’t think this was reasonable since so few people knew the truth about Anne’s condition, but he wouldn’t generally use the word _reasonable_ to describe King James.

As expected, a few of the royal guard were milling about when Jack arrived, attempting at the last moment to appear casual. Fortunately, they were bored and eager to share what they’d heard with anyone, so they gladly hailed a fellow knight.

“You heard?”

“Wh—” Jack didn’t even have time to complete the question.

“Offed herself!” One of the knights announced almost triumphantly, apparently thrilled that he was the one to share the news.

“She—what?”

“Her maids found her this morning. Drank some stuff.”

Gradually, the story emerged. How the Lady Anne had been found dressed in her finest gown, wearing the jewels the king had given her, posed delicately on the bed as though she were merely asleep. How the royal physician had found the vial of concentrated liquid distilled from the belladonna plant.

In an instant, the tiny amount of sympathy Jack had been nursing vanished. He knew with absolute certainty that the deadly nightshade had been meant for Angus. He didn’t care that she had been forced to drink it herself.

And then he learned, to his surprise, that Anne had in all likelihood taken her own life, without interference from the king. She had written an extremely long, flowery letter, and the maids were fond of quoting bits of it in overly dramatic voices and then giggling madly.

_“The cruel machinations of fate have turned against me.”_

_“If I cannot be my love’s Queen in this life, I shall instead reign forever in his heart.”_

_“I regret only that I loved not wisely, but too well.”_

Jack watched the flurries of movement thoughtfully, leaning back against a wall and out of the way. He had realized Anne was ambitious—ambitious enough to try to entice the king into marriage with false news of a baby, ambitious enough to try to preserve her position with another man’s child. He just hadn’t known that once that ambition was thwarted, she would value no other lifestyle.

He felt no regret for her passing. In fact, he was delighted that she was no longer a threat to Angus—to his life _or_ to his position.

But Angus…

Jack sagged a little. The young prince was likely to take the news of her death hard. He had tried his best to save her, had done everything he could.

Angus would think he had failed.

Jack slowly dragged himself back to the prince’s chambers, not wanting to share the news but knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer.

He had already been gone long enough that Nellie had brought their breakfast tray, and Angus was pacing the room like a caged tiger, Wilt trying desperately to talk him into sitting down and eating. When Jack entered, Angus spun to face him.

“Well?” he demanded.

Jack sighed. “It…is well, Your Highness,” he said carefully.

He hadn’t been careful enough. Angus paled at the address. Jack almost never referred to him by title when they were alone.

“What do you mean? What happened?” Angus took three quick steps forward and then stopped, jittering in place. Wilt had kept telling him Jack was checking on something and would explain when he got there, but the prince _knew_ something bad had happened.

“Angus…” Jack stared down at the child he loved. How could he make this easier to hear?

“Is it the Lady Anne?” Angus asked bluntly. “She is—she is—”

“She is no longer a threat,” Jack interjected firmly. “She will not—cannot harm you. As she intended,” he added, hoping to eliminate any sympathy Angus might feel for her.

He should have predicted the boy would blow right past the danger to himself. “She is dead, then?”

Jack sighed again. “Yes, Angus. By her own hand.”

This stopped the child short. “H-her own—”

“She…was in possession of a deadly poison.”

Wilt’s eyes went wide. “So she _was_ planning—”

“She took it herself.”

Angus turned his back to his friends, and Jack could almost hear him thinking but wasn’t sure what the boy was thinking about.

“Angus?” Jack took a hesitant step closer.

“She—you’re sure?”

Ah.

“Yes,” Jack said gently. “She wrote a letter to the king, accusing him of a fickle love, explaining that she could not bear to live in a world of such disappointments.”

Angus did not respond, but Wilt snorted. “She just wanted to be queen. If she couldn’t have it, she thought she’d get back at the king.”

Jack couldn’t argue with this jaded assessment.

“Will he care?”

The question was so soft, Jack didn’t think he’d been meant to hear it, nor could he answer it. Would King James be upset over the loss of his betrothed? He would have certainly banished her at the very least; it was likely he would have ordered her death had she not beaten him to it. How would he take the news?

“We must wait to see what happens,” Jack finally declared, exchanging a look with Wilt behind the prince’s back, both silently promising to be on the alert for any news. In theory, Angus was now safe in his position as the king’s only heir, but there were never any guarantees that James wouldn’t take his anger out on anyone he could. “For today, we’ll go straight up to Duke Lemière.”

“Normal routine,” Angus muttered, but he sounded contemplative, not upset.

“Yes.”

They ate breakfast mechanically, Angus maintaining a brooding silence. Jack didn’t have the heart to push him into eating more than the half-bowl of porridge he forced down.

After Wilt finally offered to remove the dishes, saying he needed to go collect the prince’s new garments from the seamstresses anyway, Jack finally dared speak again.

“Would you…like to talk about it?” he offered.

“What is there to talk about?”

The knight was taken aback by the tinge of bitterness in the child’s tone. “Angus—”

“What is one more death on my conscience?”

Jack was almost sure Angus hadn’t meant to say that out loud because the boy quickly gathered himself and started for the door, pausing only at the threshold for his bodyguard to precede him.

“Angus.” Jack stopped at his side. “It is not—”

The prince gestured impatiently. “I know, Jack. I’m sorry I said that.”

_That doesn’t mean you don’t believe it_, Jack thought.

“His Grace will be waiting.”

Jack decided to allow the boy to duck the topic for now, hoping a day of semi-normalcy would help him shift his perspective.

The announcement came near the end of the day, just as Jack was thinking about reminding Duke Lemière that his pupil needed to leave for dinner. A messenger arrived, and Jack left the door open, listening as the page addressed the duke.

“His Majesty King James has decreed that tomorrow’s scheduled festivities be canceled as he grieves the tragic and unexpected demise of his betrothed,” the messenger recited tonelessly, as though this were not the first time he had shared this news.

It probably wasn’t. Jack figured he should be grateful Angus had still been with Lemière, for whom the message was delivered; the prince likely didn’t warrant a message of his own.

The duke, who doubtlessly had forgotten that the king was having a celebration in the first place, twittered something, and the page left. Angus said his goodbyes and followed Jack into the hall.

“He cannot deny her existence,” the boy said thoughtfully. It was a strategic move on his father’s part. He could control the information that got out and wouldn’t need to face the realm’s nobility. No one needed to know he had thought the Lady Anne to be carrying his child; still fewer needed to know it had been a lie. And the king’s money, influence, and threats would be enough to ensure those who knew how she had died were kept to a minimum.

Jack just hummed in response. He was glad Angus didn’t need to see the king, and although he hated that James had managed to find a way to turn the situation to his own advantage, certain to garner sympathy from the populace once word spread, the most important thing was that Angus was safe.

Surprisingly, Wilt was more visibly upset than either of his friends.

“But—but your new clothing!” he protested, holding up the garments he had fetched from the seamstresses. He had thought the prince would look quite dashing when he wore them to the king’s birthday celebration.

Jack was amused, but Angus scowled. He had wondered why he’d been ordered to the fitting, usually only being provided with new clothing once or twice a year. It meant the king had already known he would insist on the prince’s attendance at his jubilee. He hadn’t bothered to tell Angus until a few days ago, but he had known for weeks.

No matter what Angus did, he couldn’t escape the king’s reach—or his control.

“Return them,” Angus said abruptly.

Wilt gaped at him. “What?”

“I cannot accept a gift from the king for—for no reason.”

“Angus…” Wilt bit his lip. “It isn’t really a gift.” In the short time they’d been in his possession, the young valet had become very attached to the soft velvet of the prince’s new breeches and the warm colors of the tunic. “And they’re nice.”

_Of course they are_, Angus thought bitterly, but he didn’t say this out loud, not wanting to hurt Wilt’s feelings. “I may not be permitted to keep them,” he said instead, trying to keep his tone even.

Wilt kept frowning. “Returning them might seem ungrateful,” he finally suggested, an overt attempt to keep the new garments. “Or the—he might have forgotten he ordered them.”

Angus hesitated, and Jack offered, “He does have a lot on his mind at the moment.” He didn’t give a rat’s whisker what the prince wore, but he thought making an issue of returning the clothes to the seamstresses so the material could be reworked for something else might draw unwanted attention to the boy.

“Fine.” Angus deflated, throwing up a defeated hand. “Just put them somewhere. I won’t wear them.” He forestalled comments from his friends with a look. “Just in case their return is demanded later.”

Jack and Wilt silently agreed to give the prince a little space, knowing he was still wrestling with his guilt over the Lady Anne’s suicide. However, Jack did very casually remove the boy’s knife when he unstrapped the sheath from his calf, murmuring something about sharpening it for him. Angus gave him a knowing glance but allowed his guard to take the already sharp blade with him when he left for the evening.

Wilt lingered a little. “Are—are you all right, Angus?”

The prince sighed. “I’m fine, Wilt. Just…tired.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“It’s been a long day,” Angus interrupted. He tried to soften his words with a smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

The valet brightened very slightly at the promise. “Okay. Goodnight.”

~~~

King James was apparently not going to acknowledge his son’s existence again, Jack thought as he stood guard outside Duke Lemière’s study the next day. That was completely fine with Jack. He had taken some time last night to have a…_discussion_…with Breland, the prince’s night watchman, ensuring that if anyone, including the king, demanded entrance to the boy’s chambers at night, Breland would immediately alert Jack. He had the feeling James would resume ignoring his son, pretending the debacle with Anne had never happened, but Jack wanted to be prepared.

Jack couldn’t imagine the king was actually mourning, but he was marginally keeping up appearances, refusing to receive any guests and canceling any previously arranged visits.

Jack sort of wished the king’s heart _was_ broken. He deserved it.

_But he’d need to have a heart first._

As usual, Angus had to bear the weight of his father’s complete lack of empathy, his inability to recognize the feelings of others. The boy was quieter than usual today, and Jack wanted more than anything to make him feel better.

He just didn’t know how.

Angus was clearly ruminating on something when he left his tutor’s study at the end of the day.

“Anything you want to share?” Jack finally prodded gently after they had gone to the dining hall, finished dinner, and walked all the way back to the prince’s chambers in silence.

After a pause, Angus began, “Do you know the story of Pasiphae?”

Jack blinked. “I don’t think so. Want to tell me how it goes?”

Angus fidgeted. “We—the duke has been reviewing Grecian legends.”

Jack nodded, unsurprised. The royal heir would be given a classical education.

“Pasiphae was the daughter of Helios.”

“The sun god,” Jack amazed himself by remembering.

The prince didn’t appear surprised. “Yes. She is—she is best remembered as the wife of King Minos and—and the mother of the Minotaur.”

Jack’s eyebrows shot up. “The Minotaur? The monster shut up in that maze thingy?”

“Half bull, half man. In the Labyrinth designed by Daedalus. Yes.”

“That thing had a mother?”

The boy’s lips twitched. “Pasiphae. She—she was cursed to fall in love with a bull, a gift to her husband from Poseidon.”

Jack was starting to feel a little dizzy. How did Angus keep track of all of this? “The—the sea god?” he persisted gamely.

Angus seemed to realize he was getting off track. “That isn’t important. The point is that she—she desired the bull and—” He flushed scarlet. “Um…the Minotaur was the result.”

“Ah.” Jack wondered why this story seemed to have struck such a chord with the boy.

“Pasiphae was immortal, so she—she couldn’t be destroyed by her choices, but…” Angus bit his lip. “I think the Minotaur paid the price for her. He—it was killed by Theseus, you know.”

Unwilling to pull Angus from his contemplation, Jack just nodded as though he had known that.

The prince was silent for several minutes. “Jack?”

“Hm?”

“She—the Lady Anne really wanted to be queen, didn’t she?”

Jack should have seen this coming. “She really did,” he agreed softly.

“She—she was blinded to everything else.”

Jack hummed in assent.

“But she wasn’t immortal.”

“Not like Pasty-Pie, no.”

This coaxed a giggle out of the child. “Pasiphae.” His smile dropped almost instantly. “She—that’s too big a price to pay for a mistake, Jack.”

Jack sighed, slumped down into a chair, and tucked Angus under one arm. “It really is, kid,” he murmured. “But that isn’t on you. She chose to play with fire, and she knew what could happen.”

“She couldn’t—”

“Son, when you went to warn her, did she seem shocked?”

Taken aback, Angus paused for a moment to think. “N-no…I think she was surprised that—that he knew, but…”

“She didn’t try to tell you that she could win him over, or that he loved her too much to ever harm her, or anything like that?”

“No.” Angus frowned.

“Then she knew. She knew it was a risk and she decided to go for it anyway.”

“She still didn’t deserve—”

“But it _isn’t on you_,” Jack repeated more forcefully. “They were her choices. She wasn’t even cursed like the lady in your Greek story.”

“Pasiphae,” Angus prompted again, smiling faintly. “She didn’t really have a choice.”

“But Anne did.” Jack spoke with finality, hoping to quell any lingering doubts.

Angus mulled this over. “Maybe so.”

Jack inwardly rejoiced at the concession, seized with a desire to kiss Duke Lemière. He sincerely doubted the elderly gentleman was aware enough of the palace happenings to have deliberately chosen this story, but perhaps some nurturing instinct had prompted its telling.

“Jack?”

“Mm-hm?”

“I should have known what would happen when—when I decided to inform—”

“Stop,” Jack commanded. His eyes flicked to the door where Wilt was quietly easing inside. Angus didn’t appear to have noticed him yet. “Brilliant as you are, kiddo, even you cannot predict the future.”

“But I know what—what he’s like,” the prince insisted.

“Okay. So tell me, what would have happened if we had done nothing?”

The boy fidgeted and said nothing.

“No, tell me. What would the Lady Anne have done?”

Angus still refused to answer in spite of his guard’s glare, so Wilt spoke up. “She would have _poisoned_ you, Angus!”

The prince flinched but did not respond. He was remembering the way his father had commanded him to accept anything the Lady Anne offered him, was imagining her slender hands pouring out his cup and giving it to him, a knowing smirk on her full lips as malice gleamed in her eyes…

“If she even made it that far.” Jack spoke harshly, hoping to pull Angus from his spiraling thoughts. “She wasn’t being especially discreet.”

“What do you mean?”

Jack felt his ears turn red. “She—um, she did summon me to her chambers two days in a row.”

“Ohhh.” Wilt nodded as if that explained everything, but Angus was already ahead of him.

“If you had refused her—”

“Which I would have,” Jack said hastily. “I _did_.” He took in the boy’s expression and added, “I’m not lookin’ to have kids right now, Angus. I already have—” He looked away and cleared his throat. “Besides, there’s no way I’d spend any more time with someone like her than I had to.”

Angus kept his head down, but both his friends saw some of the tension ease out of his shoulders.

“Keep goin’, bud,” Jack encouraged softly. “I tell her no. What would’ve happened next?”

“She—” Angus looked up at the knight, fear flashing in his eyes. “She would have—would have had you arrested.”

“At the least,” Jack agreed stoically.

Angus shuddered, picturing losing Jack. It was too awful to contemplate. He felt warm arms around him and realized he was being lifted. He couldn’t object, burying himself in Jack’s embrace. The boy no longer felt pity for the Lady Anne. He would risk much more to save Jack.

“And then what would have happened, huh?” Jack continued in little more than a whisper.

“She would have poisoned you,” Wilt repeated in horror. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea of someone willingly aiming to harm his gentle, kindhearted friend.

Jack’s grip tightened on the prince. “If the king even allowed you to the festivities after your bodyguard was—was—”

Angus made a noise of protest into the knight’s collar, and Jack squeezed him again and slid to a new topic. “And after their engagement was announced…”

The prince didn’t respond, so Wilt completed the thought. “They would have been married.”

“And how long before the king discovered Anne’s deception?” Perhaps she could have faked a miscarriage, paid off the midwife to help her cover it up. But as much as Jack despised James, he had to admit the king was nearly as much of a genius as his son and infinitely more paranoid. The odds of Anne fooling him for long were slim.

Angus shuddered again. “She would have—would have been in an _accident_.”

“Probably,” Jack agreed softly. “And all her ambition would have been for nothing. But more people would have been harmed. Including the king,” he added reluctantly, hoping to completely assuage the prince’s guilt.

Angus tucked his head deeper into Jack’s shoulder and thought for a while. His friends were right. Anne had chosen a path that could not lead anywhere but her own destruction. He still felt bad about the part he had played in her downfall, but remembering that she would have hurt Jack hardened his heart. Even as the once-again acknowledged heir, Angus had very little power. But he would use every bit that he had to keep his friends safe.

Jack would have gladly stayed and held his boy all night, but eventually Angus pulled away, mentioning that the night watchman would be there soon. Jack sighed, pressed his lips to the child’s blond head, and set him down.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” Angus turned back to quirk a small smile. “Thank you, Jack.”

“I—” Jack blinked, hoping the sudden moisture in his eyes didn’t show. “I will be here in the morning, my prince.”

Angus disappeared behind the dressing screen to collect his nightclothes, and Jack waved at Wilt as he started for the door.

“Jack?”

The knight paused, smiling down at the valet. “Yes, Wilt Bozer?” he asked playfully.

But the boy was serious. “If you had refused the Lady Anne…”

Jack’s smile dropped. “I would have. I did.”

“But if you _hadn’t_, maybe—maybe—”

“Wilt.” Jack knelt so he could look the child in the face. “Do you think she would have let me live once she had what she wanted?”

His tone had been too sharp. Wilt flinched as though he’d been struck.

Jack tried to soften his tone. “And do you think the king would have never learned of it? Her death might be made to look like an accident, but—” He looked away, not wanting to taint whatever innocence the boy still had. Jack had seen torture, had seen men begging for death. Treason against the king was not something to be taken lightly.

“You’re right,” Wilt whispered. “And she—she might still have hurt Angus.”

“Which will never happen as long as you and I are around, right?” Jack clapped the young valet on his shoulder.

Wilt brightened, his chin firming with determination. “Right. We’ll—we’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”

“Good man.” Jack patted his shoulder again and rose.

“But it’s strange to think about…”

Jack turned back, lifting an eyebrow. “About what?”

“If you’d had a son,” Wilt blurted. “If the king didn’t find out. He—he’d be—can you imagine if your son were the prince?”

There was a moment of stillness.

Jack straightened, looking toward the bath chamber until Angus appeared from behind the dressing screen, trying to act as though he hadn’t heard the entire conversation. “Yes,” Jack said deliberately, catching the prince’s eyes when the boy’s head shot up. The knight smiled fondly. “Yes, I can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Special thanks to just_another_outcast for allowing me to play in this universe and to GeekyNightOwl1997 for this idea!
> 
> Prompts and suggestions are always welcome! No promises, but what stories (in this AU or not) would you like to see in 2020?
> 
> Happy New Year!


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